The water-logged warlock
by Loopstagirl
Summary: All he had to do was get to the lake. While avoiding undead soldiers, hoping that none of his friends noticed a dragon and somehow get a sword out of the middle of the lake. How hard could it be?


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights belong to their respective owners.**

**I'm not entirely sure what this is, it didn't come out the way I had in my mind. Oh well, hope you like it anyway.**

Merlin cast the small boat a slightly dubious look, aware of Kilgharrah watching him intently. He had told the dragon why he had needed to come here, and knew that the beast would not let him leave until he once again had the sword in his hand. Whether or not Kilgharrah would let him be the one to wield it considering all of his cryptic warnings in the past, Merlin had no idea. Right now, he knew that he couldn't dwell on that. He first of all had to get the sword, and considering the boat looked as if it would sink any second, he wasn't sure if he was going to survive that long.

But he also couldn't just stand on the bank deliberating. Morgana and Morgause were closing in with every second that passed. While Arthur was refusing to think past the sting and hurt of betrayal, Merlin knew that it was up to him to somehow come out with a plan that would enable the Once and Future King to actually live long enough to sit on his throne. Merlin didn't have a plan as such, but retrieving the sword had to be the first step.

Taking a breath, he gingerly put one foot into the boat and then lurched, holding it tightly as he jumped the rest of the way in. Breathing out again – not aware that he had been holding his breath while climbing in – Merlin let his eyes flash and the boat set off smoothly. He was sure that he would capsize himself if he actually attempted to row properly. Not to mention his magic would call to that of the sword and Freya would know he was here.

Freya.

He still couldn't believe how she had appeared to him like that. He had thought that he would never see her again, that saying goodbye on this very shore would be the last glimpse of the girl who had made him feel more free than he thought was possible. And yet, she had appeared to him in his time of need, saving him from the doubts and worries running through his mind for the second time. A fond smile spread over Merlin's face and for a moment, he was able to forget that he was on a rickety boat in the middle of a lake with an undead army waiting for him back on the shore.

His smile, however, turned into a full blown grin when he saw a hand break the water, a gleaming and familiar sword clutched tightly in her hand. His magic tingled, buzzing at feeling the magic surrounding the sword. For the first time since he had been unable to stop Cenred's men taking the cup, he felt at peace again. His magic steered the boat towards the hand and Merlin found that he was reaching out in eagerness to be connected with Freya again. His fingers brushed along hers, and Merlin gasped.

Although the sword was solid, he almost seemed to pass straight through Freya's hand.

"No," he muttered, reaching again. He needed the comfort that only she had been able to offer him, needed someone to hold him and tell him that it was going to be alright. He reached again, almost impaling himself on the sword as he did so. He could hear her voice in his head, telling him their time had passed and his destiny was waiting for him. Merlin pulled back, blaming the wetness on his cheeks on the mist hovering over the lake. He had been grateful for it when he had first arrived, knowing that it would offer him some cover and not be quite so obvious from the bank that someone was out here. But now he was grateful for another reason for it offered him the privacy to take control of the emotions that had been threatening to burst forth ever since he had seen the defeated look on Arthur's face.

This time, Merlin aimed for the sword, knowing that Freya was right about it not being their time any more. He had acted out of desperation when he reached for her, but now he felt in control. She was right about him needing to get back to Arthur now. He could only mourn the dead, it was the living who needed him. His hand closed around the hilt and her grip seemed to just melt away, disappearing back to the depths with barely a ripple in the water. Merlin watched in awe, wondering quite what she had been blessed with on her death.

Unfortunately for the warlock, however, he somewhat forgot the position he was in. He had been leaning out the side of the boat in order to reach the sword, not wanting to have gone too close in case the weapon had put yet another hole in the boat. But then he had frozen as he watched Freya disappear. With the unaccustomed weight of a sword in his hand and his arm stretched out almost as far as it could go, Merlin realised what was happening a split-second too late. He wasn't sure whether it was worse knowing and realising that even with all of his powers, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Still, all he managed was to shut his eyes and hold his breath as he went pitching over the side of the boat.

The water was cold and Merlin almost swallowed half the lake as he opened his mouth in surprise. His mother had made sure that he could swim from a young age – his clumsiness meaning she thought it was safer if he was near the river – so he wasn't too worried, making to strike out for the surface. But he almost let go of the sword as he did so and Merlin realised this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. He couldn't let go, the damn sword was what had brought him out here in the first place. Yet unless he did something, the sword was going to end up on the bottom of the lake along with him.

For a long moment, Merlin simply floundered, his head only just breaking the surface for long enough to gulp down a mouthful of air before he went under again. But then he forced his water logged brain to think. He could move objects without having to open his mouth, he could do it just by willing it to be done. Focusing on the sword, he made his magic wrap around the weapon, and let go.

Merlin almost choked again as the sword seemed to instantly begin to sink. Frowning, he battled the stubborn magic into behaving and watched as the sword shot through the water and soared into the air. With his hands now free, Merlin quickly set about saving himself, coughing and spluttering as he swam for the sure. He would worry about finding the sword again when he could breathe once more. He knew it was on land, for that was where he had instructed his magic to send it, but other than that, it could be anywhere.

Crawling onto the bank, he flopped onto his back, coughing as he tried to expel the water from his lungs. For a moment, he could just lie there, gazing up at the sky and relishing in the feeling of simply breathing. Merlin couldn't help but think it was perhaps a little underrated on a day to day basis, because nothing felt as glorious as the rush of air to his lungs right now. Eventually getting his body back under control, Merlin rolled onto his hands and knees and awkwardly pushed himself into a standing position, brushing his sodden hair out of his eyes. Shivering ever so slightly despite the sun shining high in the sky, he took off his neckerchief, rang it out and then tied it back around his neck. Merlin squirmed; the sensation of damp material around his neck not being a pleasant one.

Merlin finally looked up, only to see Kilgharrah watching him. He had seen the dragon laugh before (normally at his expense) but he had never seen the great creature looking so bemused as he did right now. Before Merlin could ask what was wrong, he caught sight of Excalibur. When the Great Dragon forged the sword, Merlin highly doubted he ever thought it would be sticking out of a tree, quivering slightly from where the magic had flung it into the bark. Blushing but refusing to meet Kilgharrah's eye, Merlin walked over, took hold of the handle and tugged. To his dismay, the sword refused to budge and Merlin was once again forced to use magic before the weapon was resting harmlessly in his hand. Right now, Merlin was sure the only damage he would do with the sword was to himself.

It took more persuading than he was comfortable with to get Kilgharrah to take him back to the cave, Merlin truly believing that he was going to have to order the creature at one point. But his feet were eventually back on the ground and he knew all he had to do was get over the next ridge before he would be back at the cave. Despite the dragon's amusement at Merlin's adventure, their farewell was heartfelt and full of warnings about the danger to come. Somehow, it did nothing to lift Merlin's spirits and he was almost thankful when Kilgharrah flew off. Idly wondering what would happen to the undead if they were blasted with dragon fire, Merlin headed back to the caves. He wasn't entirely sure that anyone would have noticed he was gone and if he was honest, he was planning to keep it that way.

As soon as he started walking, however, Merlin groaned. His shoes were almost squelching from where there still seemed to be half a lake (the half he hadn't swallowed) in them. His clothes were sticking to him and despite the bright sunshine, he could feel himself shivering. The sooner he got back and could get changed, the better. Their trip to Gaius' before fleeing had given him enough time to grab some supplies, but he didn't think this would be what he was using them for.

"There!" The shout made him jump and Merlin cursed when he realised he hadn't been paying attention. Soldiers were roaming the forest, no doubt looking for Arthur, and Merlin knew he had to lead them away from the cave. He took off at a run, making sure he stayed in their sight in order to force them to chase him. His wet clothes weighed him down and a glance behind revealed there were only two men after him. Deciding to take a stand, Merlin stopped and held the gleaming sword out in front of him. The soldiers caught up within seconds, but rather than immediately striking for him, they both seemed to blink almost comically at his wet appearance. This was the first time that Merlin truly thought about how they were just men who had been made immortal. They still reacted just like men, and seeing a sodden potential victim standing in front of them was enough to make them pause.

It was also enough time for Merlin to swing for them. He knew that Arthur wasn't just being cruel when he said that Merlin was useless with a sword, it was the truth. Taking advantage while his enemies were otherwise preoccupied might not have been the boldest of moves, but Merlin didn't think he had much choice. The men were slow to react, clearly knowing that they couldn't be killed and Merlin managed to strike the first one before they realised he had moved. It was harder to say who was more surprised when the soldier seemed to almost explode after coming in contact with Excalibur. The second man looked at Merlin, and then turned on his heel and ran.

Knowing he couldn't let word spread – they needed the element of surprise – Merlin swore and took off after him. He only made it a few steps before a root managed to send him sprawling. The soldier turned back slightly at the sound and even from the distance he had already put between them, Merlin could see him smirking even as he made to run again. Not saying anything, the warlock just allowed his eyes to flare once more and the sword rose from the ground and went shooting forward. The soldier didn't stand a chance, the sword impaling itself in his body for a second before he too exploded.

Stunned, Merlin made it to his feet, collected the sword and continued back towards the caves. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to explain where he had been. He could feel the dirt from the forest floor now clinging to his clothes from where it had stuck to the damp material and knew that his face was flushed from the run through the forest. He had learnt long ago that although his magic might have been destined for helping Arthur become a great king, it did nothing of any aid to get the laundry done. He was going to have to rinse out his clothes by hand, and Merlin wasn't entirely sure that he could think of a reason that would sound plausible as to why he was in this state in the first place.

The cave had just come into view when a slightly more bitter thought crossed Merlin's mind. He had to wonder whether Arthur would even notice. He had never seen the prince like this before, and the air of utter defeat surrounding him was scaring Merlin more than Morgana and her armies would ever be able to do. It simply wasn't Arthur to give up and Merlin didn't know what it would take to break through to his friend.

Forcing the morbid thoughts from his mind, Merlin approached the cave, nodding to Gwaine who had been standing guard. The fact the man only quirked his lips in amusement over the state of Merlin meant the warlock knew they hadn't heard or seen any of the fight that had just taken place. He let the sword hang loosely by his side, hoping that Gwaine wouldn't really notice that Merlin had been unarmed before leaving. If he was honest, Merlin hadn't really thought of taking a weapon. He had been on his way to retrieve a magical sword on the back of a dragon, after all.

"Don't ask," Merlin muttered, forcing a smile on his face and grimacing. He just hoped it meant Gwaine would believe he had somehow fallen or something along those lines. The way the man simply raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, as if humouring the warlock, made Merlin grin and slip into the cave. He knew that Elyan would believe the same as Gwaine – neither man knew him well enough to truly question precisely what had happened. They didn't know his reputation for disappearing at odd times and re-emerging again just as the trouble was resolved. But that meant they certainly didn't know that he was the one providing the solutions to all of the problems.

Slipping past Gaius with a muttered "don't ask," Merlin soon found himself back where he had started. It felt like hours ago that he had been cradling the jar of water and hoping that some miracle would be revealed. Considering the dampness of the cave was making him shiver even more, he wasn't entirely sure what that miracle precisely was. Merlin pulled out a clean shirt from his bag before gently laying the sword on the ground. In the dim light, where every reflection counted, he could truly marvel in the beauty of the craftsmanship. He wondered if Tom had ever noticed that his prize sword had gone missing, or whether Gwen ever gave it a second thought after she had handed it over. A noise behind him made Merlin partly turn, shifting his bag so that it was ever the blade. He could still grab the hilt in a hurry if he needed to, but the enchanted sword was hidden unless one was rummaging around in his things.

"Merlin?"

The warlock almost jumped at hearing Arthur's voice, not expecting it. He turned, trying to look innocent as the prince seemed to grimace apologetically.

"About what you said before…" Merlin found a smile threatening to curl the edges of his lips. He knew the prince well, probably better than Arthur realised he did. He could tell in one glance that Arthur had at least attempted to snap himself out of his mood. His shoulders had squared and his chin had lifted. But more than that, there was a gleam of determination back in his eye. This was the Arthur that would fight until the death to reclaim Camelot. While Merlin knew he would do anything to keep it from coming to that, at least he knew that he wasn't fighting this battle alone any more.

But then Arthur's eyes widened and he seemed to run them up and down his servant. Merlin squirmed, aware that Arthur was realising even in the dim light that he was soaked through and covered in dirt.

"What happened to you?" Arthur demanded and Merlin was hard pushed not to groan. Knowing Arthur meant he knew that tone of voice. The heir to the throne wanted an answer, and judging by the way he seemed to shift until he was blocking the only exit from this part of the cave, he was not moving until he had an explanation that satisfied his curiosity.

"Well…"

"_Mer_lin." Thinking hard, Merlin shrugged.

"I went looking for water." He hoped that his voice sounded stronger to Arthur than it did to him. Considering Arthur simply lifted an eyebrow and stared impassively, Merlin knew he was going to have to do better than that.

"I would say you found it. What did you do, jump in?"

"Well, it was a funny story now that you ask…" Merlin began, watching with a grin as Arthur's second eyebrow rose. "I was walking through the forest looking for the stream when I saw these soldiers coming. I only had the water skin with me, so I ran for it. And then found the stream by rolling down a hill and landing in it."

"What happened to the soldiers?"

"They were gone by the time I climbed back out again, they never saw me," Merlin responded cheerfully, nudging the bag further over the sword as he spoke. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he gave his servant a very shrewd look. Merlin tried his hardest not to flinch under it.

"So where's the water?"

"In the stream?"

"You didn't fill up the water skin and bring it back for the rest of us?"

Merlin shot Arthur what he hoped was his winning smile.

"I must have dropped it. I can go back and…" He gestured vaguely to the entrance of the cave, desperately hoping that Arthur wasn't going to prompt him to finish that sentence. He didn't even know where the closest stream was, let alone wanting to risk being seen again.

"You can stay right there. I was trying to tell you something before you had to go and be an idiot."

"Does that mean you didn't think I was always an idiot?"

"Shut up,_ Mer_lin. I was trying to tell you that you were right. We do need to move from here and find a way to get Camelot back." Merlin found his smile softening as he caught Arthur's eye. He gave the prince a small nod and felt the relief swell in his chest when it was returned. It meant that Arthur had chosen to listen, knew that Merlin was right and was now determined to do something about stopping Morgana before she hurt anyone else. The proud prince in Arthur had awoken once again and that was all Merlin could ask for.

"Not that I'm admitting you were right, by the way," Arthur muttered, turning on his heel and beginning to walk off. Merlin made to follow him, only for his shoe to squelch again. Arthur glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes before leaving. Merlin once again found himself thinking about how well he knew the man. He knew that was Arthur's way of ordering him to get changed before he left the cave. For once, that was one order that Merlin was more than happy to obey. Toeing off his shoes, he winced at the water he could literally pour from them, wondering if they were going to survive whatever fight they were about to experience.

But as he changed, Merlin found that his eyes were glued to the sword. That weapon offered them hope, and he knew better than anyone the power of hope. While hope burnt in their souls and kept them going, he knew that Morgana would never truly win.

And, of course, having dry clothes on certainly made a big difference to one's mood.


End file.
